Building Neptune

Chapter Eight: "Fleeing the Fishbowl"

Dr. Grey turned the lights down, leaving the set at the other end of the medical lab on. "Your eye will need to adjust." She returned to the medical table, where he was sitting. "Ready?"

"Let's do it."

She carefully peeled the tape away from his forehead and cheek. Cal cringed. "There we go."

He blinked his eye open slowly. It felt weird. His vision slowly adjusted. He closed his right eye experimentally. "I can hardly see out of it." He carefully controlled the tremor in his voice.

Jean frowned and held his chin, turning his face so she could see. "Is your vision blurry?"

"Just really dark."

"Darker than the other eye?"

"Yeah."

She walked back to the light switch and turned the lights on, one set at a time. "And now?"

Cal closed one eye and then the other, looking around. "A lot better, but it's still darker."

"Can you see clearly, though?"

"Kind of like it's foggy. Does that make sense?"

Jean nodded and moved back to inspect the eye again. "It might be the scar tissue. There's not much we can do about that, but it might clear up a bit with time." She pulled a pen out of the pocket of her lab coat. She made a few notes on her clipboard, and then held up the pen. "Watch the pen without turning your head and let me know when it goes in and out of your vision." She started at his far right, a bit behind him, and moved forward slowly.

"I can see it now." The pen moved around in front of him and left. At about a forty-five degree angle from his left eye, he said, "I can't see it anymore."

She frowned and lowered the pen to the clipboard, scribbling something down. "You've lost your peripheral vision in that eye."

"Per-what?"

"Peripheral vision, seeing out of the corner of your eye." She set the clipboard down and looked at him, lips pursed. She sighed. "This is sort of what we expected. You know that."

Cal nodded. "Do you have a mirror?"

She brought him one from a drawer in her desk and passed it to him.

It wasn't a pretty sight. The whole area was still bruised greenish-brown. He had tape over a "T" of stitches at his temple, where they'd had to pull the skin back over his skull. A smaller set of stitches ran just under his eye, where the doctors had gone in to fix his cheek bone. Cal grimaced. "Will it scar?"

"Yes, but I'll give you some cream to minimize it."

"Fuck."

"Cal, you really need to start watching your language."

He looked up at her, looking almost affronted because, really? She was bringing this up now, when his face was a mess and he could hardly see out of one eye?

"Especially in front of the younger students."

He laughed in mild disbelief. "It's not like they haven't heard it before."

"Still, you have to set an example. And it's just good manners."

"Dr. Grey, out of all the terrible things people do, all the terrible things I've done, I hardly think a few swears are going to matter in the big picture."

She smiled at him, a tight-lipped smile. "Regardless, I'm asking you to try to censor yourself."

Cal stared at her for a moment. He gave her an equally fake smile. "Sure, of course."

"Seriously, we can step things up a bit. I've got two eyes now, after all."

Bobby tugged him into the Danger Room, rolling his eyes. "Don't be stupid. We'll start out as slow as we need to go. No hand-to-hand. It'll be easier on your ribs anyway."

"My ribs are practically good as new."

"Liar."

Cal stuck his tongue out at his roommate.

"Computer, initiate sequence."

They were on a high riverbank, opposite a group of men armed with semi-automatics. The objective was to force the opposite team into retreat. They settled flat on the grass behind the cover of some rock. It was so not challenging it wasn't even funny. Bobby was holding back, shooting ice periodically across the gap and ducking down. Cal tried to play along and hold back for a bit, but after about fifteen minutes of tedious exchanges of fire, he got fed up.

"Oh, for Christ's sake." He army-crawled out from behind the rock and extended both hands at the river below them.

"What are you doing?"

"Help me or not." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before flicking his arms upward. The river water surged from the riverbed and up the enemy's side of the ravine, clearing the hillside by a few feet before crashing forward. He felt himself quivering at the effort.

"Holy crap." Bobby came up behind him, extending a hand to lace the wave with ice bits, effectively scattering any remaining opponents.

"Objective cleared." The simulation disappeared, leaving Cal on his stomach on the floor, Bobby standing beside him.

"That was…impressive."

Cal twisted to look up at him. "I told you I could handle something tougher."

Bobby reached down and clasped at Cal's hand to pull him to his feet. "Alright, next time we'll kick it up a notch." He tugged him up harder than necessary, pulling Cal too close, their faces a few inches away. They both froze for a moment.

Cal pulled back. "Uh."

But his roommate had already dismissed the moment, smiling like he had before. "Alright, let's get cleaned up. You've got math homework to work on."

He groaned as he trailed after Bobby. "Do I have to? I'm tired now."

"Yeah, you have to." Bobby snorted at him. "Quit bitching."

"Okay, you factor this just like the other ones, but you have to multiply the last number by this first one. Bobby leaned forward on the desk, barely restraining himself from grabbing the notebook and just doing the damn problems himself.

Cal groaned and slumped forward, head on the desk. "I'm never going to remember all of this. I haven't done homework since I was thirteen, and I hardly did it back then."

"Come on. Just give yourself time to adjust. You'll get it."

"I give up. I can't do any more of this tonight." Cal scooted his chair away from the desk.

"Cal, it's due tomorrow!"

He rolled his eyes and stood up. "Oh, who cares? At this rate, I'm not graduating high school until twenty-two. I've got time." He looked at the door. He reached in his pocket and took his hand back out. He walked toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Bobby sighed. "It's almost curfew."

Cal paused in the doorway. "I need…I just need to breathe for a second, okay?"

He walked out, leaving Bobby with a vague sense of déjà vu.

There were a few land lines scattered around the school for students to make personal calls. Cal went for the one in the hallway outside the laundry room, more secluded than the rest. He slipped the paper out of his pocket and turned it over in his hand a few times before he dialed.

"Hello."

"John?"

"Cal." He could hear a smile in John's voice. "I was wondering if you would call."

He sat against the wall next to the phone, twisting the cord around his finger. "Yeah, I've just been crazy busy with classes and all that bullshit."

"How's that bandwagon going?"

Cal laughed quietly and bumped his head back against the wall. "Ugh. It's just…suffocating, you know? Jean's getting on me for swearing, of all things. And it's all rules and deadlines and expectations for this trivial shit—I might just snap."

"Sorry, yeah, it gets like that. People like you and me have a lot of perspective, and most of them just don't get the big picture thing."

"I'm trying. I really want to make it work."

"I think you could. Just don't change yourself to fit the rules. Change the rules to fit you."

"I'm not sure that would go over well."

"You'll figure it out if it's meant to be."

Cal paused and felt his shoulders relax a bit. "Sorry, I didn't call just to bitch."

John laughed. "It's fine, really. I've been there."

"What have you been up to?"

"Oh, just training and some boring work stuff. Things are pretty slow here. You actually just saved me from getting chewed out by my teammate."

"Oh? Over what?"

He snorted. "God only knows—using his gear or something stupid like that. He'll get over it."

"Well I'm glad I could help."

In the distance, Cal heard someone call, "Curfew!"

"Damn it. It's almost eleven. I have to go back to my room soon. My roommate's gonna bitch at me about not finishing my homework."

"Jesus, you need to get out of there."

"Yeah, kind of."

"What time do your classes end on Friday?"

Cal smiled. "Two thirty."

"Meet me outside the front gates at five. Wear something nice, not formal."

He broke into a grin. "Sounds good."

"I'll see you then. Night, Cal."

"Goodnight."

He placed the phone on the receiver and sat there for a moment, grinning like an idiot and, after trying to resist, did a little dance where he sat. He pushed himself to his feet and strolled back to his room, homework and curfew evaporated from his mind.

"Hey, Bobby," he chirped on his way in.

Bobby looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow. "You're in a better mood."

"Yep." He flounced over to his dresser and started going through his shirts.

"Can I ask why? Not that I'm not happy you are."

Cal held a red button-up up to his chest and turned toward the mirror on the bathroom door. "I have a date on Friday. Does this look too formal?" He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully.

Bobby stood up, walking up behind him. "A date? With who?"

He chewed on his lip for a moment, as if still thinking about the shirt. If John wasn't on great terms with his old school friends, maybe he should keep this quiet. "Just this guy I met in town."

"Oh. Uh, that sounds good. What's he like?"

Cal looked back at him, smirking. "Fucking gorgeous." He turned back to his dresser, pulling out a black t-shirt. "And really sweet. In a realistic sort of way, though. What about this with a scarf?"

Bobby hesitated, and then smiled. "A scarf's too campy for a first date. I like the red shirt."

He looked over at Bobby again, surprised. "Well, look at you." He pulled the red shirt out and put it on a hanger. "Thanks."

"Do your homework, Cal."

He rolled his eyes. "And we were getting along so well…"